Heat of the Moment
by crichton55
Summary: A murder attempt on Ash gets Togetic instead. Having reached the Elite Four, Ash learns he is still a target. What he doesn't know is that he isn't the only one. After all, young love kept secret too long is never a good thing. Strong AAML.
1. Tired of Waiting

"Heat of the Moment"

(Preview Version)

By: Crichton55

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A/N: Wassup everybody?! The Crichton man's back! I'm sorry about not posting anything since I finished "Whispers in the Dark" (which IS going to continue! Don't worry, people!). I've had a moderate writer's block for the last month or so. This little fic is a **work in progress.** I haven't gotten the whole thing done yet, but I wanted to post it so badly just to see if it acquired any interest, so I spiced things up a bit and created a Preview Version, or something like a teaser trailer. I got the idea for this fic from a piece of fanart called "Sleepwalking" by KateRayearth on .com, so part of the credit goes to them. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon or the remixed song "Heat of the Moment" by DJ Manian. If I owned both and had complete control over them, I'd have already made this fic into an actual episode of Pokemon.

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Misty watched in shocked silence as Ash walked around the hallway corner and out of sight. She was sure she had not heard correctly. _"The bike means nothing, Misty. I can replace a bike. I cannot replace you. You mean too much to me..."_

The thought seemed to echo through her mind as she stood. _You mean too much to me._ Could that really mean...? No, of course not, she told herself. How could he possibly be in love with her? She was just the whiny redhead that followed him everywhere, bickering with him every chance she got. But...why had he said that? It didn't make a shred of sense.

She found herself walking slowly back to her hotel room, her eyes glued on the floor. _The bike means nothing, Misty._ He was right. Misty had lost all desire for her bike years ago. She only used it to hide the real reason why she continued to follow Ash, to mask her love for the aspiring Pokemon Master.

Pokemon Master. The very thought was daunting. Ash had come so far, he was so close now. Only the Elite Four stood in the way of his dream. But...what would he do if he won, if he attained his dream? Would he leave her and Brock? The possibility tore through Misty's brain for the umpteenth time as she shut the door behind her. She shuddered at the thought.

For the first time in her life, she was hoping Ash would lose, just so he would stay. She knew in the back of her mind that he had become a better trainer, seemingly overnight, and that the Elite Four hardly seemed to stand a chance. She had watched him leave for hours at a time to mediate in the grassy fields, and he had always come back looking extremely calm and relaxed, as though he had awoken from a century-long slumber. He always had a strong...was it an aura? Misty could feel a curious sort of…energy whenever he passed close to her, which had become more frequent every day. It felt as if strength itself was surrounding him.

His Pokemon were no exception. Misty had noticed that over a couple weeks, each of Ash's Pokemon was returning with him outside of their PokeBalls. Pikachu's leg muscle had strengthened and his occasional static discharge now took on a dark blue color. Charizard's tail flame was like the equivalent to a portable inferno, but now, like Pikachu's electricity, it did not glow red and orange. It had shifted color and now burned a deep shade of blue.

_I cannot replace you._ She trotted over to the large aqua blue bed and fell onto it, rolling over and staring blankly at the ceiling. Why was it so hard? Why couldn't she just come out and say those three little words? She had been over this countless times before. Fear held her back...it always held her back. The fear of driving him away, of rejection, of tearing apart their precious friendship, drove her mad. _"Misty, what are you waiting for?"_

Misty sighed deeply and continued to gaze at the white ceiling. "We've been over this before, Jiminy Cricket," she muttered aloud. "Countless times. He doesn't love me like that." She rose from the soft bed and walked over to the sink, pouring herself a cup of water.

She heard a loud snort from over the kitchen counter. _"You know that isn't true, Misty. You heard what Ash said to you."_

Misty downed the clear water and crumpled the plastic cup before tossing it in the trash. Turning around, she saw what looked like a white, cloudy Ash leaning up against the bathroom doorway. He appeared void of all color. His trademark cap was missing and his hair looked as if he had been tortured. His face was diseased with numerous scrapes and bruises, and his left eye was encircled by a ring of dark discoloration. His arms looked as though they had fallen victim to a large fire. The blue vest was heavily tattered and torn, its fabric strands fluttering slightly like it had been caught in a light breeze. Misty gave a hard sigh and turned her back on him. "Why must you always take that form, Togetic?" Misty said softly, looking at her feet. "You know how that makes me feel."

Togetic floated over to Misty and hovered in front of her, the wispy cloudlike form of Ash folding his arms. "Misty, look at me," he said sternly, and Misty hesitantly looked up at the tortured face.

"I'm taking this form to show you how Ash will look if you continue to conceal your emotions from him," said Togetic. Misty looked at him curiously.

"What do you mean?"

Togetic sighed and leaned up against the small refrigerator behind him. "The bullet that claimed my life was meant for Ash," he said simply and bluntly. He averted his gaze.

Misty's insides turned to ice. She remembered seeing Togetic's lifeless body soaking in a large pool of blood. She could still see the large red blotch on the side of her beloved Pokémon's head. She remembered hearing a loud crack from somewhere within the dense mass of trees that had surrounded them. She recalled sobbing uncontrollably in Ash's arms and hearing his stifled cries. "How do you know that, Togetic?"

Togetic looked back at Misty. "Ash is the one out of you, Brock, and him that has the highest chance of being an assassination target," he explained. "Think of how many enemies he's acquired so far."

Misty racked her brains, then gave a small gasp. "Are you saying that Team Rocket is behind this?" she exclaimed. Team Rocket...it was always them. It had to be them. Anger sparked within her. Togetic chuckled slightly and shrugged slightly. "How should I know?" he asked softly. "I'm dead, remember? I don't know who killed me, but I'm sure that whoever it is will strike again, and if they do...well..." Togetic trailed off for a few seconds, and silence fell upon them.

Misty blinked a few times, waiting with bated breath. Finally, Togetic started back up again. "Ash's meditation training has been serving him extremely well," he commented, and Misty blinked once again in confusion. "But his training will fail him when he needs it the most. Only you can give him enough strength to succeed."

Misty merely stood in front of the forgotten sink in utter confusion. This didn't make any sense. "But...what can I do to help him?" she asked. "I just the one who-"

But Togetic was too fast for her. "He loves you!" he barked suddenly, a sudden twinge of anger filling his voice, and Misty gave a slight jump in surprise. "You're the one he fights for, Misty. If you'd stop sulking around in your own fear, you would know that. You already know what you have to do. Stop talking to yourself and go!"

And Togetic was gone. Misty stared at the spot he had been a second before, but all that greeted her eyes was the shiny metal refrigerator that stood in front of her. Her Pokémon's words echoed through her brain as though they were shouted through a drainage pipe. _He loves you!_

Maybe Togetic was right. She had been smothering herself in her own fear. If she didn't do anything soon, she might lose Ash. But what about rejec-

No! she told herself harshly. No…fuck rejection! That did not matter anymore. It was no longer a concern. She had to tell him now; she couldn't wait any longer. She had to be with him....before it might be too late.

Misty darted across the room and delved into her purse, retrieving a single brass-colored key with the number 330 stamped into both sides. Striding across the room, she opened the coat closet and took a wire hanger, which she proceeded to unbend into what looked like a long metal noodle. She bent the wire in half, being careful to leave a few inches jutting outward on one end. She bent it in half again, and again, and again, until it was about five or six inches long.

Misty observed the odd and somewhat crude device she had just made, turning it over in her hands several times before looking at the protruding tip. _Hmmm,_ she thought. _That's way too big around. That'll never do the trick._

She looked around the room, desperate to find a way of flattening the end of the noodle-like wire. Her mind was racing, and she checked the digital clock that sat on the bed-side table.

The clock read 11:35 PM. _Perfect, _she thought triumphantly. _Ash usually goes to bed earlier than normal before a major battle. He must've completely bypassed the TV when he went to his room earlier, and just went straight to sleep._ Misty smiled to herself as she rolled the bent wire around in her hand, her mind back on finding an effective enough tool.

Her mallet! Of course! The whole business end of the tool was made of hardened rubber covered by a brass layer. Maybe if she tapped the end of the wire a few times to flatten it out, but...what was something hard enough that could serve as a backboard? Misty thought for a second, the tiny cogs in her brain working furiously, and within moments she was standing at the metal kitchen sink.

She rested the end of the wire on a small metal lip that overlapped and inch of the countertop on all sides of the sink, and began lightly tapping the wire with her mallet. It made a loud clanging noise, but she ignored it and continued to shape the metal.

After about thirty seconds of tapping, Misty held the flattened tool up and examined it. _Not my best, but for what it's going to be used for, it'll have to do._ She strode over to her purse once more and dug within it, pulling out a small metal object that looked like an Allen wrench. It was black, and the long end appeared to be about as big around as a McDonald's straw, but the short end had been machined flat, flat enough to fit snugly into a keyhole. Misty smiled and kissed the wrench before taking off her shoes.

_First test, little guy. Don't let me down._

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A/N: Hope you liked this little teaser! Okay, Misty probably is a little out of character, but given the fact that Brock doesn't play a big enough role in this one, and since Ash isn't really the smartest one of the trio, I guess that leaves Misty to be the smart one. I expect to finish it within a few days or a week or so. I've been having loads of fun writing it over the last two or three days. Please review! Subscribe/favorite if you want to. See ya!


	2. Weighing the Odds

"Heat of the Moment"

Chapter II: Weighing the Odds

by: Crichton55

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A/N: Hey everyone! I'm back again! Yes, I know I promised a few days or a week to complete this fic, and I'm no longer going to promise anything of the sort because of my history with writer's block hahahaha. Terribly sorry. At any rate, I hope you like Part II of "Heat of the Moment". I lost the original script, or what I had at the time, so I guess it's just as well to start over. On an unrelated note, I would like to ask everyone a question, and you can answer in a review if you'd like. I plan on writing a fantasy novel series based in a medieval setting, like Eragon, and I wish to incorporate psychic powers into it in a similar way that magic is used in Harry Potter and numerous other works. I am not making them like those. They were just mentioned as examples. The idea started from "Whispers in the Dark", and parts of the plot there is going to be used, but I have much more in mind. My question is: should I attempt it? If so, what can I do to combat writer's block? Many thanks, and I love your reviews!

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5:30 PM, half an hour before Ash, Misty, and Brock arrive at Indigo Plateau.

A hooded figure examined the empty shell casing, rolling it around in his hand as if it were a ball. His face, however covered, revealed a glow of crimson anger.

"I failed."

His words were stained with fury. How could he have missed? It didn't seem possible to him, but then again he had allowed his ego to get in his way before. Not that it mattered this time. A problem like this, however frustrating, didn't pose too much difficulty. He could always find another way.

The young man stood against a shadowy part of the enormous building. Above its massive gate read "Indigo Plateau". He knew it was only a matter of time until he'd come across what he'd chased after for so long. Beating the boy to where his dream was set to culminate made too much sense. Beat him at his own game; he had been doing it for how long? Two years, three? He wasn't sure anymore. It didn't matter much to him. All that was left was to ensure he got what he wanted.

A small girl rapily approached him, looking up at him with a kind of curious child-like gaze.

"Hey mister, whadda doin'?"

The young man didn't answer. He merely stared at the girl, surprise and resentment filling his gaze. A few seconds passed in which the child and the young man did nothing but stare. It was an awkward moment. The girl had silky brown hair, with a hint of a reddish glow to it, and for a split-second he thought he saw the face of a certain redheaded trainer.

He quickly dispensed the thought hastily as he heard a woman shouting a name, Caitlin maybe, and considered taking care of the girl right there. It was certainly within his power. His eyes flashed with a crimson glow at the thought. The mother would find her lying on the ground outside the bushes, still alive of course.

No, he reconsidered. That would arouse too much suspicion, and it would distract him from what he had been waiting for. That and it would provide for him unnecessary resistance between him and what he was after. The again, it would act as a decent diversion, albeit a brief one, in which he could snag his prize and make off without his black-haired rival being any wiser.

However, the young man merely let go of the thought as quickly as it had arose. No, he thought. Too much trouble. The whole scene would be over in a heartbeat, he would have to find a new hiding spot, and he could not guarantee that it's timing would be exactly when his prize would arrive. Even more, he had no way of explaining the psyburn the child would sustain in the process.

The woman strolled up to the girl and grabbed her arm. She gave the young man what he understood as a fleeting look of thanks, to which he waved his hand as a somewhat forced polite gesture, before walking off, girl in hand.

His mind wasted no time going back to his former ambition. He resumed his stance against the wall, sinking back into a shadowy part of the building. His eyes flashed crimson once more, and a single PokeBall attached to his belt glowed with the same reddish aura as his eyes. It unhooked itself of its own accord and hovered beside him.

The young man sensed the air around him. She's close, he thought to himself. Excellent.

"Arcanine, you know what to do."

11:45 PM, Indigo Hotel, 40th floor.

Misty slipped around the door to her room as stealthily as a cat and shut it silently behind her. Her whole body trembled with both excitement and slight fear. She knew it was crazy, but her emotions knew no other solution. Like hell she was going to stay in her own bed awake knowing she had passed up a perfect opportunity such as this.

Her footsteps on the fine carpet floor sounded like a rock concert as she made her way down the hall slowly. She remarked on the oddness of how a simple act such as walking at night sounds like it could wake the dead, when in the middle of the day it sounds like little more than a whisper.

320, 321, 322. The rooms seemed to pass by her painfully slow. She continued to wonder if this was the best choice. Fear remained a stubborn mental block, and even though she continued down the hall, Misty couldn't shake the possibility of Ash rejecting her. She wished it didn't scare her, wished she could live up to all those times she made herself look like the fearless leader, but she had to remind herself of why she had put on that mask. It was to hide what she felt for him. Brutal triangle of denial it had become. First she used her broken bike as a tool, a mere excuse to get to follow him around. Then came feigned fearlessness, and even if that didn't work, she could always simply deny her feelings if someone was smart enough to read between the lines, but even Melody had been smart enough to see past that trick.

Damn it, she cursed silently. Melody had been right. She was in love with Ash. How could she deny it any more? She no longer cared what anyone else thought about it. She was fairly certain they knew she was hopeless anyway. They could think whatever they wanted. Still, it left her struggle with Ash rejecting her. She could simply ignore that possibility and go through with it, regardless of the outcome. Hell, at this point she wasn't even sure if he bothered to give her a second opinion. The guy had bigger things to worry about. All her fear of rejection was based on was the simple fear of destroying what friendship they already had, but with Ash so intently focused on running over the Elite Four, she wasn't sure if there was anything that could be destroyed.

327, 328, 329...330. She stood in front of Ash's room, and her heart felt like it could power an entire city. Her hands shook a little and she eyed the doorknob. Perfect, it was a normal keyhole and deadbolt door and not a key card entry. She knew she could hack one, years of sneaking around had not withheld that information, but it was late at night and it would have been extra trouble. She gripped the wire coat hanger, which was flattened at one end, and inserted it with the other lever-like piece of metal in the deadbolt's keyhole. She gave the stout piece of metal a bit of leverage and wrestled the coathanger wire inside the keyhole, working it around until the satisfying five clicks she had been waiting for were heard.

Too easy, she thought to herself silently. She now stood in the middle of a room identical to her own, save for the messier nature of how Ash had strewn his stuff all over the sofa, as well as a box of half-eaten pizza that sat on the counter. Brock's bag lay next to the bed, and for one terrifying moment she wondered if he was still in here, possibly asleep somewhere. Maybe close enough to compromise what she was going to to.

She heard a single snort from the other room, and her nerves eased. She set her metal tools on the counter gently, so neither made a sound, before she tiptoed into where she had heard the sleepy snort.

Ash lay on the giant king-sized bed, half-covered in the large blanket. Pikachu lay sleeping on the left edge of the bed, Ash's hat draped over his head. Silently, Misty approached the other side of the bed and hastily rolled the blanket over to gain entrance to Ash's side.

Even in the dim light, she knew she was blushing furiously. Her heart continued to beat like it had been replaced with a bass drum. Laying down, she snuggled up close to Ash, her stomach against his back and, abandoning all restraint, wrapped her arms around him.

Her heart felt like it had exploded, releasing an incredible rush all throughout her body. She felt complete, warm, and deliriously happy. All worry seemed to simply melt away. It felt like heaven, to feel his warmth radiating into her own body and to feel his breath go in and out.

She heard a small giggle of excitement and rose her head to be greeted with Pikachu's knowing look, his head still full of Ash's hat. The yellow mouse said nothing. He merely gave Misty what she had seen coming the moment she saw him there, a look that clearly read "Took you long enough."

"I know," Misty mouthed back, to which Pikachu gave a satisfied "Pika!" before promptly letting himself fall back onto the pillow, sleep overcoming him once more.

Misty sank back down as well, abandoning all attempts to keep from falling asleep. Her face was stuck with a lovestruck smile as she let sleep take her.

Her arms were still around him when Ash opened his eyes the next morning.

A/N: Cliffhanger! ~^_^~ Okay, I hope I can finish this quickly for you guys. Spring semester of college starts in a week and I have no idea if I'm going to have time to get the rest done. But I shall make a special effort to get it done, and if I don't, sorry. Like I said before, I cannot make promises. In any case, I hope you enjoyed this one! I've had a lot of time to sharpen my writing and change tactics a little. My best friend has had an amazing impact in writing for me. Hopefully this fic can help me cure writer's block. He and I are tossing around idea for the novel I mentioned at the top, and it would be awesome if I heard any comments and/or suggestions from reviewers! A simple opinion, yes or no, or helpful plot hint would be excellent. But please, let me know about this fic too ~^_^~ Review! Bye for now!


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